


Sugar, Spice, And A Little Bit Of Nice

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [75]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Confessions, F/M, Godparents, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5735155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't know what she expected from Bellamy at their goddaughter's baptism, but it wasn't this. He was being nice--nice, after they had ignored each other for months. The last time he had been nice to her, well, they had been halfway to the bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar, Spice, And A Little Bit Of Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Bellarke fanfic with them as godparents and lots of mutual pining? :)

“Can I have a turn?”

Clarke turns and finds Bellamy staring at her, hands in his pockets and shoulders hitched up tensely. This is the closest they’ve been other than standing across from each other at the altar of the cozy stone church while Raven and Wells’ daughter was baptized. They had both agreed to be Ella’s godparents, despite their differences, and Clarke had spent half the ceremony ignoring how good he looked in a suit. Now, though, back at the Reyes-Jaha house for a reception, he has his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie loosened, which is an even better look for him. She nearly swallows her tongue staring at him. 

“Sure,” she murmurs, quickly glancing down at the baby in her arms to coo at her one last time (not because she’s hiding the blush in her cheeks, not at all).

As if eager for the switch, Ella lifts her tiny hand up, fingers stretched out towards her new godfather. 

“C’mere kiddo,” Bellamy says with a smile, one that is never directed at her, at least not anymore.

Clarke can’t blame him, really. They barely got along before their drunken hookup five months ago, but then he had run out the morning after and she had refused to take his calls in the next few weeks. It didn’t matter that she knew that they were both freaking out; she was stubborn and proud and didn’t want to be the first to cave. So despite their friends many pleas, neither of them had been willing to give or accept apologies, so they resorted merely to tolerating each other.

Still, when they were at a bar with friends and Bellamy brushed by her, hand lingering on her lower back, or they were having dinner at Monty’s and he caught her eye in amused sympathy whenever Jasper made a particularly horrible joke, she couldn’t help but wonder: _What if she had answered his calls? What if she hadn’t been stubborn? What if she had accepted his apology?_

Watching him with their goddaughter now isn’t any easier, the way he pretends her barely-there grip on his finger is the strongest force in the world.

“I’m surprised she’s still awake,” he comments, glancing up at her. “She didn’t even get her nap today.”

Clarke pauses, trying to remember the last time they had a civil conversation. She ignores the memory of them stumbling up to her apartment, kissing without taking much pause for air, whispering kind secrets and compliments into each other’s skin. Still, it is their goddaughter’s baptism party; if there was ever a time for a truce, it is now. “Maybe she’s like Raven–her superpower is also not needing sleep.”

Bellamy snorts. “That’s not a superpower; that’s the result of too much Red Bull consumed during grad school. She was addicted to the stuff, probably started absorbing it. I bet it’s all that runs in her veins now.”

“Maybe she can give me a transfusion, then. I could use it.”

“The hospital running you ragged?”

“I don’t look tired,” Clarke snaps, even though she knows the dark circles under her eyes are probably permanent now. Residency did that to a girl.

“I wasn’t saying you did,” Bellamy replies mildly, propping a wriggling, gurgling Ella up on his shoulder. “I just know Miller said Monty is feeling the burnout too.”

“Oh.” Clarke flexes a weak smile at him in apology. She doesn’t know what to do with this Bellamy: his softness, his calmness. It sets her on edge, and she hates it.

WIth a sudden hacking sound, Ella coughs up on him, and he sighs heavily. “I guess she didn’t like this shirt as much as I did.” 

A chuckle escapes Clarke. Then she clamps her lips shut, her cheeks heating as she realizes she was about to say how much _she_ likes his shirt on him. 

“I better go get this cleaned up,” he says after an awkward silence, and in a blink, he is gone.

Clarke doesn’t move until Wells brushes by and asks if she’s okay. With a mumbled excuse, she slips off to the bathroom, trying to suppress the butterflies in her stomach. So focused on tamping down her long-denied feelings, she bursts through the door, only to find herself face-to-face with a shirtless Bellamy. 

“Sorry,” she blurts, hating how her eyes keep flicking down to his sculpted chest. “I didn’t realize–”

He holds up the shirt with a wry smile. “I really did like it. Figured it was worth it to try and get the stain out now.”

She just continues staring– _god_  he’s gorgeous–lips pursing when she registers that his smile is twisting into a satisfied smirk.

“You alright there, princess?”

The nickname snaps her into motion, and she slams the bathroom door shut behind her before launching herself at him.

“Shut up,” she manages to mutter before kissing him with purpose, with intensity, like she’s going to war.

He groans into her mouth, hands clamping on her sides and splaying firmly over her ribcage. They turn, so the sink is at her back, and Bellamy is everywhere along her front, hot and ready and eager. Maybe even more eager than her.

“This is so wrong,” she chokes out with a laugh when his lips suction against her neck. “This is Ella’s baptism.”

“Would you have talked to me otherwise, though?”

“Was this your plan all along then?” Her heart sinks at the thought; he couldn’t be that shallow.

Bellamy pulls back immediately, hurt flashing across his face. “I just want to talk Clarke, that’s it.” When she glances skeptically down at their nearly touching chests, he huffs, then continues, “So we both just got carried away. But I mean it, I–I want to talk to you. About us. About that night. About–”

“Another try?”

The grin that lights up his face sends a thrill through her.  “I didn’t think I’d get that lucky. But I’ll take it.”

Clarke suddenly ducks her head, which is spinning from the turn of events. With a sigh, she knocks her forehead against his chest. 

“What’s going on in there?” He asks, tapping her temple.

“You were so _nice_ , earlier,” she explains in a petulant tone.

He chuckles, and she feels the rumble in her bones. “I was trying something new. I, uh, was strongly advised it might be to both our benefits.”

“Well, it worked.”

“You don’t have to sound so annoyed about it,” he says amusedly.

“This isn’t a trick?” She asks, pulling back to look him in the eye.

His expression immediately sets into something serious and soft. “I want a second chance. And I’m–trying.”

“Okay then. Me too.” Clarke can’t help the grin working its way onto her face, and she leans forward to kiss him. Just as their lips brush, though, the door swings open.

“Seriously?” 

Clarke laughs at Raven’s shocked expression, but Bellamy just rolls his eyes and flips her off.

“There are _children_  in the house, you two,” Raven sniffs with mock outrage. “My _daughter_ , your _goddaughter._ “

“Sorry?” Clarke tries, but her persistent grin gives her away.

With a labored sigh, even as she fights a smile of her own, Raven mutters _at least lock yourselves in to spare the rest of us interrupting_  before leaving them alone again. As soon as the door clicks shut, though, Bellamy pulls away and reaches for his shirt.

“Don’t worry, it’s just for now,” he teases when Clarke frowns in protest. “Plus, I plan on taking you on a date before we do this again.”

“Going to make me work for it, huh?” She jibes, hand on her hip.

He cups her face with his hands, shirt half-buttoned, and smiles. “That’s the plan.” 

Then he kisses her–a little sweet, a little rough–and she decides this plan of his is one she can get on board with. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!


End file.
